Spotlight on Christine Jordan and her 30 for 30!
NAPOWRIMO - National Poetry Writing Month, 2021, the Los Angeles Poet Society shared a poetry prompt calendar for a poem a day, often referred to writing 30 for 30. 30 poems for 30 days in the month of April. Poet Christine Jordan took upon the challenge, creating an exquisite poetic collection,
We want to share her poems with you, and hope they inspire you to embark on our 2022 NAPOWRIMO Challenge!
Inspired by 2021 LAPS NAPOWRIMO Challenge:
Poems Du Jour by CE Jordan
bloom 4/14/21
I am beginning to bloom
And what is commonly called
A late bloomer in my case is
So late I would say I am more a
Transplanted shrub, blooming
Being a strange and distant memory
So let us all be the perennial
Bloomers, the right on time bloomers
The erratic bloomers, the evergreen
Buds and shoots, and not worry
About keeping any schedule at all
As long as we can witness our very
Coming to life coming to terms coming
By it accidentally or just coming to it
Graciously, as gracious as an old dog
succulent 4/15/21
If a meal is not succulent then it is dry
And unless you are traversing the South
West or trying for the perfect tan I do not
Think one strives for this state of mealiness
So why not juicy succulence, the great family
Of totally inedible plants called succulents?
Airy, blue and grey with their fiesta blooms loaded
With liquid, not cactus the canteen of the desert
But the houseplant cousin of Carmen Miranda’s
hyperactive hibiscus and headdress of fruit
I myself prefer the succulent salsa beat of the
Ricky and Lucy easy care echeverias and aloes
Bleeding sticky liquid and begging for more
typing 4/16/21
8th grade was when I learned to type
Yes on a typewriter and they call it word
Processing now, done on what is called
A laptop, see it is easy so easy that my mate
Who never learned to type can still do it with
Only two fingers so how did he type his papers?
I used my quick typing mom to finish my papers
In high school for me a bad night one night at
My dad’s job where the fastest typewriters
Lived it was better when I left home to pound away
On my own electric job, oh how did we do it before
All the endless keyboard shortcuts! I am back in
The 8th grade in a huge room with girls in full skirts
And straight skirts, knobby knees bent and fingers and
Thumbs pounding away to beat the quick brown fox
erasure 4/17/21
1
With respect to typing we correct the heck out of the
Outcome of flying fingers on soft pads these days
But reminiscing about mistakes let’s reflect on erasers
And white out and correcting tape and thank our lucky
Stars for tech advances! now my mom toughed it out on
Her Selectric when she wrote novels and their many
Revisions, many, all with the inconvenient paint and tape
Oh when she got a computer it was a no go, not even
Willing to lift her flying fingers from her rough keys, but
Then all her words were safely on paper, oh the days!
2
Things that get erased:
some of our feelings
certain memories
whole paragraphs with the slip of a tip of a finger
good recipes
bad events
wrinkles because we really are growing younger
rabid 4/18/21
Bitten by the bug dog raccoon
Taken by the swath of moon
Eaten by the mug of a swoon
Shaken by the flight of a balloon
Earthen is the sign of the loon
roots 4/19/21
Power the ways of the world
Nourish from the bottom up
Stabilize the ground we tread
Conduct the sap and juices
To give us air to breathe
As long as we get water
To their domain, the cellars
Of our earthly mansions, root
Cellars, root out, root for the home
Team, celebrate your roots, braids
The fancy parts of the roots of us
Thank you roots, thanks
chiseled 4/20/21
Beware of the swindler, the cheat and the con
He is crafty and ruthless and you are the pawn
Chipping away at the the truth and your dues
He will infinitesimally make off with the muse
And you are both richer and wiser and poorer
But more clever by sidestepping one more sure loser
grotesque 4/21/21
The living gargoyles we have
Raised and fed are roaming
Around again I do so love
The way they even sound off
But mostly how they sleep
Through it all in ways I can
Not do myself see the perch
And the nest of our creatures
The bath time at will so good
When you are so self-contained
Tongue to slobber and lick your
Smooth black fur I do so love our
Very soft and moveable Grotesques
breathless 4/22/21
Jimmy was very cute with thick, slick black hair and chiseled features, and I had the biggest crush on him. Plus, plus, the script called for Senor Columbus to kiss his Queen’s hand at the end of the play, like “yes your majesty, I will find the New World for you..“ smackeroo. Well, with everyone watching us two thespians rehearse, one room, everyone together, one teacher, this had to be a ‘group’ activity, and, well, it was pretty hard on my co-star with the rest of the 4th, 5th and 6th grade kids yelling “kiss her hand Jimmy! Kiss it!!” Yeah. He said he would kiss my hand in performance. Now, picture this: on the day of the play, all eyes on the two stars...he licked my hand instead of kissing it. Breathless to wet. Jimmy Columbus and the Kiss of Death. No one knew but us two and we never told. I had my dignity.
signature 4/23/21
So many in Shakespeare’s day could neither
Read nor write, an X was their signature
Not really a signature but a mark really
Sufficient to indicate compliance or con
Firmation of an event or a transaction
Our man could certainly use a pen by candle
Light time stolen here and there, true signings
To create a gentleman and scholar, father and
Colleague and sometime reluctant husband but
Who knows? Our man may even be a stand-in for
An unknown playwright write write write write
.......
May the muse greet each and every one of you! Write on - just stay true to your voice, your vision, and express yourself.
About Christine Jordan
Having ‘discovered’ poetry in 1982, Ms Jordan found it a ready and natural outlet for her creativity. It has been a constant thread, a life-saver, during her hectic life in the performing arts, teaching, dancing, modeling and directing. She is proud to have been a featured poet at Beyond Baroque in 2011, and had her poetry published in Rivertalk and Blue Satellite locally, and Armchair Shotgun out of Brooklyn, NY. among others. She toured her solo poetry performance piece, The Ojai Show, notes on a country childhood, throughout 2010 to much acclaim, a work based on her collection of 23 poems called ‘Fragile Borders’ about a charmed childhood full of imaginative wonders on a ranch in the Upper Ojai Valley in the late 50’s. She is currently a landscape designer by day, poet by night (and day!) A California native, the desert is surely part of her landscape!
